


the abalin hotel

by failboy



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: (nothing graphic i promise holy shit), Arson, Creepy, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, OKAY so basically ryden own this creepy ass hotel, also TRAVIE MCCOY!!!!!!, also there is a trans woman but i can't decide on who it will be yet, bills a murderer and gabes an arsonist, it's lit tho and everyone in it is hella, okay NO SPOILERS!!!!, right where do i begin, sexy policemen travie and desashi :):):)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failboy/pseuds/failboy
Summary: the abalin hotel is a weird place.owned by brendon urie and ryan ross, the building is full of unique charm. well, charm to them. the walls are immune to horror - but outsiders must be wary.in the abalin hotel, nothing is extraordinary.[all in lowercase]





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep boop mention of suicide at the start here :^)

the abalin hotel is a weird place. a place where relationships, dreams, and people all come to develop, and die. what an outsider may perceive as disturbing or distressing has become the norm for this building. the walls are immune to horror, the guests seeking such thing. in the abalin hotel, nothing is extraordinary.  
the hotel is renovated from a small abandoned century-old apartment block. two men took over the land just 6 months ago, restoring the home into three-star accommodation. it opened one month later. some wallpaper will peel still, and a few rooms are furnished with photo frames of somebody’s ancestors, but to the owners, that is part of the charm.  
see, brendon urie is a strange individual. his partner, ryan ross, is none better. but it is no burden. they are clowns to themselves, pure allure and wit, and take incredible pride in their settlement. they abalin hotel is their contribution to an otherwise bleak habitat. what’s las vegas without a little menace?  
today, it is the first day of december. the best month, in ryan’s opinion. this morning he sports a minimalist but outstanding purple waterline, and his rough-cut hair sits falls around his forehead rather than covering it. it’s nine-thirty in the morning, and brendon is yet to arrive in the foyer, but ryan couldn’t wait. it’s the first of december. the holiday season has begun.  
the possibilities of people to emerge through the revolving door are endless, and ryan glows at the thought.  
he stands patiently behind the wooden desk, rhythmically tapping one fingertip on the edge. not too hard, or else it’s rustic surface might crumble under the pressure. but it’s just loud enough to rival the grandfather clock in ryan’s line of view. on the desk is another clock, an old, clunky, digital thing that is one hour behind the time. in his palm, he holds a cracked wristwatch, one he obtained from room sixty-six, after the occupant had hung himself from the light fixture. the watch hasn’t ticked since he did.  
ryan pockets it with admiration. all part of the charm.  
just then, a puzzled looking man walks into the lobby. he’s fairly short and fairly stout, and his hair is choppier than ryan’s. he sports a grubby white tee and an unstylish body-warmer, and black jeans that cling to his thighs. he lifts his fringe to wipe his forehead with a glove-clad hand, then removing it and stretching his fingers. his knuckles crack as he makes eye contact with ryan.  
“is this a hotel?” the man queries. ryan thought the exterior was adequate enough to confirm that yes, this is indeed a hotel, but he nods anyway.  
“yes, the abalin hotel. how may i be of service?”  
the man’s eyes widen, gleaming under the fluorescent strip that illuminates the doorway. “this is the abalin hotel?” he gawks. “dude, i’ve heard so many sick things about this place. how much for a room?”  
“one thousand,” ryan answers facetiously. “temporarily? significantly less.”  
“how’s four nights? two people, by the way. i got another dude on my trail; he’s probably lost in the snow.” the man doesn’t move from the centre of the room, but no one else is around to notice.”  
“two people for four nights is fifty-six dollars.”  
“fifty six? that’s dirt cheap!” the man walks over to the desk. “i’ll take it. starting tonight, yeah?”  
ryan’s insides warm up, and he breaks out in a smile. “certainly,” he pleases, taking a pen and opening the vintage guest book to a page near the middle. “what’s the name?”  
“patrick,” the man says, peering at the digital clock. “patrick stump. and the other dude is pete wentz, with a ‘z’. dude, this place looks awesome.”  
“my pride and pleasure,” ryan flourishes the last letter on the page and looks up to meet eyes with patrick. they grin at the same time. “any particular room you’d like?”  
“give me the highest one you’ve got,” patrick rocks on his heels ecstatically.  
“that’ll be room sixty-six,” ryan unhooks the key from under the desk where they all hung. he hands it over to the customer, who takes it with glee.  
“sweet. thanks, man. i’ll just go make myself at home.” patrick flashed one last smile, before heading towards the staircase. ryan smiles in return.  
“enjoy your stay,” he calls, though he knew they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HELLO! im so excited to start this okay okay. it's gonna get cr33py but not too creepy because i am a sensitive boy. but basically i did have this on wattpad but i hate that hellsite so i've moved it over here. updates are gonna be a bit slow but trust me, the chapters will get longer. this is just a lil starter taste. counts as chapter one tho. anyway hope you dont mind the lowercase thing anddddd see you next chapter!!! xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the chapters are gonna get longer i promise xxx)

brendon urie opens his eyes once he registers he’s awake. he blinks a few, focussing on the ceiling to get his mind into action. through the thin door on the other end of the room, he hears the distinct voice of his partner, followed by a stranger. the words _enjoy your stay_ float though the wall, and brendon smiles warmly. those three words are music to his ears.

ryan has made their first new booking of the month. holiday season has begun.

brendon swings his legs over the bed, finding a discarded button-up on the floor and deciding it was in fit enough condition to be worn one more day. he slips on a pair of jeans that are probably ryan’s and musses up his hair, making his way to the lobby door. he’ll come back later to touch up his appearance, so one glance in the chipped mirror suffices for now.

he opens the door just in time to catch a glimpse of the man entering the stairway.  ryan catches his eye and flashes a shit-eating grin.

“patrick stump just gave us our first business of the month,” he announces. brendon lifts the flap to join the other behind the desk, wrapping his arms around ryan’s waist. they exchange a small kiss, before ryan prises his partner’s hands from his hips and hops onto the desk.

“he’s got another dude coming in a minute,” he continues, swinging his legs. “room sixty-six.”

brendon nods contently. “is that person in room sixty still there?”

“i don’t think she’s leaving,” ryan sighs. “but let her take her time. we’re not exactly bursting out of the doors here.”

“what if she dies up there?” brendon’s eyes widen.

ryan chuckles fondly; “won’t be the first.”

“what’s her name again?”

“gerard,” ryan answers, “you’re out of touch, babe. she’s been up there for a good month.”

“maybe that’s why i forgot who she is,” brendon shrugged. ryan hummed in agreement, before they settled into a comfortable silence. it really had been a month since gerard way checked in to the hotel, and to the couple’s knowledge, she hasn’t seen the light of day since. when she faced brendon upon her arrival, she seemed distressed, mascara smudged under her dark eyes and lipstick rubbed off her chapped lips. her dress was stunningly fit to her figure and flowed as she walked, but the ends were torn and frayed dramatically. it was a tragic kind of beautiful, and naturally, brendon offered her one of the best quality rooms in the building.

of course, that room is nowhere nearing the five-star accommodation this woman clearly deserved, but brendon will always do his best, and gerard accepted, although she felt there was little choice. room sixty isn’t too bad – it’s certainly not the worst in the hotel – but unless you have incredibly low standards, any housing here _would_ disappoint you. the ceiling is only just above brendon’s height, and he is a relatively short man. thankfully, gerard isn’t too tall herself. it keeps two comfortably-sized single beds, with thin bedding and wooden frames, and a small window opposite the door. gerard had arrived empty handed, and room sixty occupied no other furniture, so for the last month it has been a mystery what this wondrous woman does.

she isn’t dead, that’s for sure. every other evening, ryan knocks on the door to check how she is. and when she claims to be fine, ryan doesn’t interfere.

this hotel is their pride and glory. why should she not be?


End file.
